A Legitimate Matter of Blood
by lannerz
Summary: An AU in which King Robert Baratheon legitimizes Gendry so he lives at the Red Keep with his father, uncles, and new family. Now Gendry must deal with what it means to be a highborn and royalty, along with the upcoming arrival of the Starks. Things certainly aren't going to be easy, but at least he's got a family, even if a few of them don't seem too pleased with him.
1. Good Timing

**Author's Notes:** This is one of my favorite things that I've ever written. I just really love Baratheons ok?

**Disclaimer: **GRRM owns all of these characters and also my soul.

**A Legitimate Matter of Blood  
**_pride_

"I don't… I don't think it's supposed to be this _tight_."

"Tight? The boy doesn't even know when clothes fit him. We've got a lot of work cut out for us." Lord Renly Baratheon leaned in closer. "If you want to see some clothes that are tight, just look at your father."

Gendry looked around the room at the three men standing before him. Two were lords and one was a king – all three of them were apparently his new family that he didn't really know what to make of. One day he'd just been an orphan working as a blacksmith's apprentice, hoping to make the best of what little life he had. The next day, he'd been informed just who his deadbeat father was. And somehow or another, he'd managed to find himself being legitimized, with a new name and House and everything.

It was all very complicated and confusing; and he did his best to not think about it, lest he wanted his head to hurt some more.

Well, Gendry tried not to do as Lord Renly muttered under his breath, but Gendry couldn't help but look at his father. Robert Baratheon, the king, was quite fat, but apparently he'd looked nearly identical to Gendry at his age. All that did was make Gendry worry that he was going to end up fat when he got older, but neither Stannis Baratheon nor Lord Renly were fat, so he supposed he'd just have to be careful. He dropped his eyes to the ground, unable to keep from the habit he'd acquired as a child when around highborns. _You're a highborn now too, stupid,_ he thought. Only, despite the clothes they gave him and the fact that he lived in the Red Keep now, he didn't feel like a highborn. He still felt like a bastard.

He still felt like just himself – just Gendry, not Gendry Baratheon or even Gendry Waters.

"I look stupid," Gendry finally settled on as he caught sight of his reflection again. Lord Renly had insisted on buying him a new outfit for the arrival of Lord Stark and his daughters. He'd hated the idea of it, but hadn't even bothered to protest. At least this time Renly had gone on his own. The first time, Gendry had gone with him, in order to get his measurements done, and it had been a nightmare. He never wanted to go shopping with his Uncle Renly or Ser Loras Tyrell ever again. Not only had he felt out of place in a shop filled with clothes that cost more than he'd made his entire life, but he'd felt like a third wheel with his uncle and his uncle's friend.

Still, Renly laughed, all good-natured and cheerful. That much could be said. He was the nicest of the whole lot and did his best to make sure that Gendry was at least somewhat comfortable with everything but clothing. "You don't look stupid. You look _handsome_. All the girls will be fawning over you." There was a strange look about the smirk on his face. "Maybe even some of the boys too."

Gendry flushed a color that looked painfully similar to Lannister crimson.

"Nearly five and ten and still blushing at the thought of a romp in the sack!" King Robert guffawed deeply and pat Lord Stannis on the back, a little harder than was necessary. Stannis looked quite affronted and glowered at his older brother. "Sure this one isn't yours?"

"You're the only one with bastards," Stannis replied through gritted teeth. He always seemed to speak like that. When Gendry had first met Lord Stannis, it had been in Tobho Mott's armory shop, back when Gendry had still just been a bastard. Stannis had been the first one to recognize who Gendry was, though it had been the late Lord Jon Arryn that had told the king about his bastard son. Gendry could still remember the way Stannis has ground his teeth upon first looking at him.

Robert placed his hands on Gendry's shoulder. "He's not a bastard anymore, Stannis," the king pointed out in a low, protective grumble. It was strange thinking that the king might feel protective of him when no one had ever protected him before. He'd only had himself after his mother's death. Though Gendry was tall for his age, he was still not as tall as his father. He had a few years left to grow, of course, so maybe then, he'd be just as tall. Stannis and Renly were tall as well. It was a Baratheon feature apparently, along with black hair and blue eyes. He always felt strong and tall, older than his age, when around other kids, but when he was with these men, he felt much like a child. These were all men grown, though Renly only had about seven years on him. Gendry was still a boy, a king's boy.

Gendry cleared his throat, causing Robert to step to the side slightly, and cast them a nervous glance. "Maybe, uh, maybe it isn't proper of me to, you know…to be at the welcoming feast when Lord Stark and his van arrive…" All three Baratheon brothers looked at him, which only made him feel even more nervous. He tugged at his collar, feeling hot under the stuffy material. "I mean, I'm not…you know, I'm not exactly proper and…well-mannered and all that sort."

Robert snorted, which wasn't proper or well-mannered at all, but he was the king, so he could do whatever he liked. "Then I hear you'll get on well with Ned's youngest daughter. Apparently she's a wild one."

Renly gave him a complacent smile. "You're more well-mannered than most people, Gendry. Besides, it'll be another week before they arrive, plenty of time to review lessons on etiquette and dancing and such." Oh, great, there would be dancing. That didn't make him feel any better in the least bit, even with a week of practicing. He'd rather be in the armory, beating a hammer against a burning sword, than prancing around in a room. He'd rather be wearing that old leather apron and his old dirty clothes than these stuffy clothes. His father didn't look too pleased to be in them either, but that was probably because he preferred dallying about naked with women.

"It would seem a slight to House Stark if one of the princes decided to not make an appearance," Stannis added in a no-nonsense tone. He didn't look too pleased with the idea of Gendry being at the feast either. Well, it was either that or he just didn't want to be at the feast. His father said that Stannis wasn't one for parties or feasts or anything remotely fun – that all he did was grumble, make pessimistic comments, and look down on fun. Gendry was more than certain that he didn't care for the type of fun that his father did, but he said nothing on the matter and just smiled and nodded his head whenever things like that were brought up.

"The Queen won't be happy about it," Gendry sighed, deflating on the spot.

Then again, the Queen wasn't happy about _anything_ when it came to Gendry or even her husband period. Whenever he caught sight of her looking at him, it was only with pure venom in her green eyes, as if she hoped to poison and kill him on the spot with just a glare. It made him uncomfortable, to say the least, but he didn't want to say anything bad about the Queen, so he kept it to himself and didn't tell his father or anyone. One of the biggest problems he'd come across since being pulled into this family was that he never felt like he could trust anyone. Even when he'd lived on the streets as an orphan, he'd had friends that he could tell secrets to, even if he hadn't really had any big secrets. In the Red Keep, Lord Varys the Spider seemed to know everyone's secrets, whether they liked it or not; and so Gendry thought it best to just not speak up at all. If he didn't say anything, then how could anyone ever know?

"Bugger on Cersei," Robert dismissed gruffly. "You're a Baratheon. Everyone can see that plain as day. It wouldn't have been right to just waste you on the streets in that little armory shop."

_What about all your other bastards?_ Gendry couldn't help but think. _What's so special about me and not them? Why am I a Baratheon and why aren't they?_

Those were thoughts that Gendry kept to himself. It sounded terrible, but every night since he'd laid in that plush bed and not the cot in the back of the armory, he'd had to remind himself of how lucky he was. He wasn't just an orphan boy anymore. He may not have had a mother, not really, but he had a father now. He had a home. He was a Baratheon. He could have anything or anyone he wanted. He would never want for anything, never be cold, never go hungry ever again. He was a _prince_. That was a far-cry from a lowly blacksmith, even if he had been talented. And still, there were times when he longed for that simple peasant life. He longed for privacy, for simplicity, for the boring every day nothings that he couldn't have now. The only time he was truly alone was when he went to the privy and even then he felt smothered.

Everyone wanted to talk to him. Everyone wanted to help him. Everyone wanted to meet this new Baratheon boy.

But they didn't really want to – they just acted like they did because it was expected of them and because he was royalty. The people here weren't really his friends. The only things that were real were his family. Robert was his father and Renly and Stannis were his uncles. He had a little cousin named Shireen by Stannis as well, though they hadn't met yet. The only other brother he knew about was Edric Storm, because he'd been acknowledged, but not even Edric, who was of noble birth, had been actually legitimized yet. Gendry had been stupid enough to ask the king about Edric; and the king had just given him a smile that suggested he thought Gendry was being thick and just said, _"All in good time, my boy, all in good time." _But why had it been Gendry's time and not Edric's? Gendry thought for sure that Edric would have made a better prince than him, even if he was younger.

"It'll be fun, you'll see," his father told him, all confidence. Robert Baratheon was the type of man that loved having fun, even if it meant possibly killing someone. That was what Stannis had grumbled about at least. The king ruffled Gendry's hair, making it look normal. Gendry couldn't remember ever combing his hair before, but now he had to do it every day, and he thought it looked a bit strange. Renly had even commented that he might grow it out, though Gendry preferred to keep it short like Stannis. Well, except he had more hair than Stannis, who was already going bald.

Despite his doubts, Gendry forced a little grin onto his face. "Fun, yeah. I've never met a Northerner."

"Ned will like you," Robert told him, which was at least a little bit reassuring. Eddard Stark was the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Gendry was rather hopeful that the man, his father's best friend who had helped win the Iron Throne, wouldn't dislike him. "The only thing that could possibly upset him is if you try to bed one of his girls, I wager."

Gendry's grin fell quickly. "I would never." He glanced at Renly, who wore an amused look, and Stannis, who looked as if he didn't believe Gendry. All Gendry could do was shake his head quickly. "I wouldn't dare dishonor any lady."

His father winked at him. "Then we'll make sure you don't mix beds with a lady then, eh?"

Gendry could have told the king that he didn't want a whore, but his words would've fallen on deaf ears. King Robert was set on making a man out of Gendry as soon as possible. Every time it was brought up, he would go silent and just wait for the moment to pass. The only problem was that it was brought up more often than not, especially when the king was drinking. _"Like father, like son,"_ he'd laugh, and Gendry would laugh weakly in return and then stare at his food as hard as possible. It wasn't that he didn't like girls. It was just that, well, he didn't really know how to deal with them. He had been taught to never speak to highborn girls and so he'd spent most of his time staring at the ground when ladies came about. Prostitutes just made him uncomfortable. He thought it was important that a girl actually want it, and not just for coin. Try telling King Robert Baratheon that though. He was a gift to women and so his son would be as well.

_I'm going to end up as sour as Lord Stannis at this rate,_ Gendry thought with an inward sigh.

"Come on, let's leave the boy be," Renly said, as if sensing the sullenness that had overcome Gendry. He always seemed to be easygoing, even when everyone else wasn't. He was still young though, only one and twenty, so he made all the jokes he could while Stannis called him childish. No one dared call the king immature though. "You're going to make him blush worse than a maid." At this point, Gendry didn't even try protesting the fact that he'd never been with a woman. He just accepted defeat. "We've got a lot of preparations and decisions to make before the Starks arrive."

"You mean _you two_ have a lot of decisions to make," Robert corrected, picking up a goblet of wine. His squire, Lancel Lannister, had made sure to fill it up with a pitcher to spare before the king had shooed him out of the room. There had been thought that Gendry might take Lancel's place as Robert's squire, but Gendry had somehow managed to convince them that that wouldn't be right since he was Robert's son. That and he didn't know a thing or two about swordfighting, being a knight, or any of that stuff. It had fallen upon Stannis to teach Gendry or, well, Robert had made it fall upon Stannis at least. "I've got important things to do."

Stannis rolled his eyes. "I do not think whores count as important things to do, Robert."

"So says the man that lies with his wife only once a year on a full moon," Robert replied, laughing heartily before finishing his glass of wine.

Lord Stannis looked like he wanted to say something terribly rude, but instead he just grinded his teeth and looked back at Gendry with such a heated glare that it startled the younger boy. "Your lesson will be at five sharp. Do not be late."

"Yes, m'lor– I mean, yes, my lord." It took everything in Gendry to remember himself and speak properly. He'd gone around calling everyone "m'lord" his first week so much that Queen Cersei had made a quip that there was a new Beggar Prince. King Robert had smacked her for that, since it apparently had something to do with the Targaryens. And if there was one thing the king hated more than small council meetings, it was Targaryens. Gendry learned quick from the light bruise on the Queen's face to never mention them. He hadn't thought it proper of his father to do that, but no one said anything, and so he hadn't either. Still, it was hard to remember to say "my lord" and not "m'lord" like a lowborn.

Stannis gave him one more passing look before storming out of the room. Gendry wasn't quite sure why Stannis seemed so irritated by him – maybe it was because he was still a bastard in Lord Stannis' eyes – but the man never treated him differently from anyone else, which Gendry liked. Stannis treated highborns and lowborns alike in that they all seemed to aggravate him.

Renly smiled pleasantly. "I'll see you at supper, Gendry. Don't let Stannis bother you too much. You'll find out soon enough that he's always in a foul mood and nothing solves it, especially not family time. We'll go do something fun tomorrow that doesn't have to do with getting beat with a stick or whoring about, I promise."

As long as it wasn't shopping again or dealing with lords and ladies of the court, Gendry would be happy with anything. That was what Renly was helping him with. Gendry nodded his head; and Lord Renly left the room, so that only Gendry and King Robert remained. It was somewhat startling at how much Gendry looked like his father. Everyone always commented on how Gendry was the spitting image of Robert Baratheon at his age and how remarkable it was. There was not a hint of his mother in him, that blonde woman that sang to him when he was sick and said that his father would beat him when he was bad. Gendry wouldn't dare do anything to upset the king though – or at least he'd do his damned best not to. It was hard to tell with someone when they were in their cups.

With one hand holding a cup of wine, Robert put his free hand back on Gendry's shoulder. "You're going to make a fine Baratheon, a true one. I hate to say it, but I feel like you're more my son than Joffrey or Tommen. They look nothing like me and act nothing like me." Gendry thought that was rather unfair of the king to say. From what he'd seen, Prince Joffrey was rather keen on pleasing his father and tried acting like him whenever he could. They both had a very proud streak in them – and a vicious one as well – but Gendry said nothing and just looked at his father. "Things can get sticky when bastards are legitimized, but I know I made the right decision with you."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Gendry said humbly, hoping against hope that he sounded earnest.


	2. A Bastard's Pride

**Author's Notes:** This might just be my favorite AU to write. I've got a lot (that's pretty much all I do these days), but I love the Baratheons so much.

**Disclaimer: **GRRM owns all of these characters and also my soul. Sucks to be me.

**A Legitimate Matter of Blood  
**_A Bastard's Pride_

The week before the Starks arrived in King's Landing only served to make Gendry feel as if he'd been run over by a stampede of horses.

He had to make up for nearly five and ten years of not being a highborn in a matter of a few weeks; and the last one had definitely been the worst. Of course he did his best to learn things as soon as possible, but there was no way he could remember all the lessons he'd been taught. The fact of the matter was that he had lived a lowborn life and therefore had a lowborn mind. At least, that was what Maester Pycelle had said after Gendry had shown abysmal results of his reading skills at the end of his third week as a highborn. _I'm the first illiterate prince to exist,_ he couldn't help but think. When he'd said this out loud, Lord Renly had been most comforting, telling him that the words would come to him in time. His father had just laughed and told him that words were useless anyways. _"As long as you've got a sword or hammer in your hands, no one will question you," _King Robert had said.

The King couldn't know how right he had been. Gendry missed the feel of a hammer in his hand and the heat of the forge. He'd felt good there, like he knew what he was doing and what he was meant for. There hadn't been any questions about his intelligence or skills. He had been good at that, much better than he was at reading and writing. He hadn't needed words back then, but now they were crippling him and he couldn't get his hands on a hammer if he tried. He knew that because he had tried. A little over a week ago, he'd asked about making a sword, but then Robert showed up with a fantastic sword ordained with the Baratheon colors a few days later.

A sudden thwack to his head sent Gendry reeling and he toppled backwards onto the ground.

"Are you even paying attention?"

When Gendry pulled the lid from his helm open, he saw Lord Stannis standing above him, a frown on his face and a disappointed look in his eyes. That was what Gendry had come to hate the most: he hated the way that he only seemed capable of disappointing his new family. It truly frustrated him, to the point where he'd begun to lose sleep. He'd never once disappointed Tobho Mott, but no matter how much his father clapped him on the back or Renly congratulated him for not stepping on his dancing partner's feet, Stannis never hid his disappointments behind a smile or glass of wine. He had to deal with his troubles during his lessons with Stannis; and he was particularly unforgiving.

"Sorry, I was just–" Gendry pulled himself to his feet, the armor shifting on his body uncomfortably until he was standing up straight. It felt strange to be the one wearing the armor and not the one making it. "I was just thinking about my lessons with Lord Renly."

Stannis rolled his eyes. "Well, you're not dancing anymore, so you need to pay attention to the here and now." He tapped Gendry's helmet again with the tip of his sword, making a pinging sound. "The moment you stop paying attention in battle is the moment you get yourself killed."

Gendry pulled his helmet off his head and gave his uncle a sullen look. "But I'm not going to be in battle."

"You might be one day."

"You don't think… I mean, you don't think a war will start, do you?" Gendry could not stop his brow from furrowing worriedly. During one of his history lessons (and why in Westeros he needed to learn history was beyond him), he had learned about the Blackfyre Rebellions, all of which had occurred because bastards had been legitimized. At least, that was what he thought they were about. Or maybe it had been the War of the Ninepenny Kings. _Bullocks, I can't remember a damned thing._

Stannis looked at him carefully, having forgotten at least for a moment what they were doing. "Your father is in control of the Seven Kingdoms. His rebellion brought them closer together than ever before."

Gendry's shoulders dropped; and he relaxed slightly, but there was still a slight nervous tension in the air. He might not have been incredibly bright, but he was smart enough to know that Stannis hadn't truly answered him. Gendry had asked a yes or no question, neither of which Stannis had answered with. His head hurt too much to think about it though, both from the blow to the head that Stannis had given him and all the lessons that had been crammed into his mind in a short amount of time. Part of him wanted to prod Stannis for further answers, but he still didn't feel like it was his place yet, even if he was a prince now.

"Come on then," Stannis said, pointing at him with a sword. "You're not going to be in any shape to compete in the Hand's Tourney, but maybe, if you keep up, you'll be better than a hedge knight in a year's time."

Gendry glanced around and spotted a few different types of weapons. "Could I try out the warhammer, my lord?"

Stannis sighed and let his sword fall down, so that its tip grazed the dirt. He glanced at the warhammer, which was nearly new-looking, despite it being old. No one used the warhammer. Gendry could tell its history just by looking how few of scratches was on the metal. "You would ask things like that." When Gendry glanced at him nervously again, Stannis shook his head and waved his free hand in that direction. "I cannot tell you no; and it will be healthy for you to get to feel of many types of weapons, not just a sword." As Gendry excitedly made to switch weapons, he could hear Stannis mutter under his breath, "No one's touched that thing since Robert for nearly seven years. Why do they still have it?"

_For me,_ Gendry thought as he picked the warhammer up and admired it. It felt like home in his hands. _They have it here for me._

"And – one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three – there you go, Gendry, you're getting the hang out of it!"

At least Renly was pleased with Gendry's progress. Gendry himself still didn't know what the hell he was doing; he just felt like he was spinning around in circles and he didn't know where he was going and all he could do was pray to the gods that he did not step on this poor girl's feet again. Despite the fact that he'd stepped on her feet enough to break her toes, his dancing partner seemed surprisingly in good nature and wasable to keep a smile on her face nearly all the time, although he'd catch a cringe whenever he did bumble and step on her toes. How Lord Renly was still able to find other highborn girls that were willing to dance with him during lessons was beyond Gendry. He was certain all the girls he'd danced with previously had grown tired of his incessant apologies and stumbling nature.

For all the grace that his Uncle Renly had, Gendry was certain that not a drop of that grace had been given to him through his father. Maybe it wasn't really a Baratheon thing. Maybe Renly was just gifted whereas his father, Stannis, and Gendry were not. After all, his father wasn't really one for dancing; and he knew without a doubt that Stannis wasn't either. No, Renly had all the grace, but he was doing his best to ensure that Gendry at least wouldn't make a fool of himself during feasts.

Honestly, Gendry preferred waving a sword around in the sweltering heat while clad in armor against Stannis than he did dancing in the cool room in highborn clothing with a pretty girl. He was still trying to get used to actually looking highborn ladies in the eyes and not muttering, "M'lady," every time he passed one. It was hard enough to do without turning an alarming shade of red. How was he supposed to do this every day? It was like he was being forced to change every, little thing he'd been taught and had beaten into him.

"Very good, Gendry, very good." Renly clapped as he walked over to them, a smile on his face. He always seemed to have some sort of smile on his face. Gendry liked that about Lord Renly. He was always in a good mood, unlike Stannis who was never in a good mood and his father who had mood swings that were worse than any storm. Gendry and his dancing partner, a highborn girl whose name Gendry had not been able to hear when she'd squeaked it out to him early, parted. She curtseyed to him; and he gave her an awkward bow. He was supposed to bow, right? Or was he since he was a prince? Seven hells, this was confusing. He watched her scurry away. "I know you've been very wary about dancing, but the moment you stopped thinking about it so hard, it came to you easily enough. And you weren't wearing that scrunched up look that you do when you're thinking hard." Gendry gave his uncle a somewhat embarrassed look; and Renly put a hand on his shoulder. "You just have to be more confident in yourself, is all."

"It's kind of…" Gendry heaved out a tired sigh. "It's kind of hard to do that. I wasn't born… Well, I guess I was born with it, but… I don't know."

"You're not used to this kind of life; and it's a bit overwhelming now that you've been thrust into it, I know." At least Renly was understanding. There were times when Gendry was sure that he would fail so terribly at being a prince and highborn that his father would unlegitimize him and toss him back out onto the streets. Even Renly grew frustrated when Gendry struggled with a word in a children's book, but then they would see just how hard he was trying and all would be well again. If a child could do it, then so could he, but it felt so much harder to learn now that he was nearly a man grown. "But you've come very far; and we are all very proud of you."

"I don't think Lord Stannis is," Gendry muttered under his breath.

Renly let out a laugh. "Stannis probably thinks it's too optimistic to show pride, but rest assured, he is proud of you. He wouldn't be so hard on you if he didn't think you showed potential or growth." That was nice to know at least, seeing as how Stannis seemed to try to beat every bit of his knowledge into Gendry's head. They began to walk out of the room. Gendry didn't know where they were going, but anywhere but this room would be nice. He was so done with dancing, even though he still had three more lessons before he'd actually have to do it in public.

_The Stark girls are going to think that I'm so bad at dancing that I'm a court fool,_ Gendry thought with an inward growing panic. He dreaded their arrival more than anything. It was one thing to be judged by his new family, but it was another to be judged by another family. So far, he'd only danced with a handful of highborn girls, all of whom he was rarely able to actually speak with. But the Starks would be living with them in the Red Keep. He would see them on a daily basis. They were on his level of being highborn, so they'd be able to make fun of him and everything, he was certain.

"Maester Pycelle says that you are greatly improving with your letters," Renly spoke up.

"Oh, well, I'm…alright." Gendry mustered up a weak smile. "I don't think they're meant to be learned completely in just one month."

Renly chuckled again. "No, you're quite right. It will take months; and even then, you will struggle. But you must be practicing on your own outside of lessons. He said there was a marked improvement."

"I read every night and I write down every word that I struggle with, sometimes right before the sun comes up," Gendry admitted.

"Determination – that is very good." Renly nodded his head knowingly. "I know few boys that would be so vigilant in their lessons. Your father certainly wasn't. He probably skipped as many lessons as he could when he was a boy."

But it was a lot more than that to Gendry. Besides learning swordplay and dancing and all the proper etiquette, Gendry mostly wanted to learn how to read and write. That was by far the most important thing for him right now. Not every prince was a great swordsman or jouster; not every prince was fluid at dancing; and not every prince was perfectly charming – but all princes, even probably all highborns, knew how to read and write. That was a defining feature between highborns and lowborns. Everyone knew that. His father and uncles and their highborn friends might not be able to understand it, but Gendry knew that no amount of titles, wealth, or House name would ever make him feel like a highborn until he could read and write.

"I just want to be a good Baratheon," Gendry said, thinking about his father. So this was what it felt like to have a parent – a crushing, desperate need to please the one person that could take everything hope away with a frown that nearly consumed him. It wasn't nearly as grand as he and the other orphans at Flee Bottom used to make it out to be.

Renly stopped and gave him a careful look. "You are – you will be. Your father is very proud of you."

_I just wish he'd tell me that when he wasn't drunk, like you do._

This was the worst idea to have ever been thought up in history. Gendry was more than certain that no amount of history lessons would change his mind otherwise. This had to top the cake. This had to be the most excruciatingly painful and awkward thing that anyone could have gone through. He was half in mind to tell his father that he wanted a whore right this instant, if only so he could escape the room and never come back again, but it was hard enough to open his mouth to breathe, much less speak about whores.

When he had pictured having a family and what it might be like to sit down and eat as a family, Gendry had never once pictured something as awkward and terse as eating with his father, the Queen, and her three children. This was miserable. More than anything, he wished that he could've eaten supper with his uncles and his father or even just with his father. Anything would be more bearable than this. It felt like punishment to him, so he was worried that he might have angered his father in some way. Still, he didn't think so, considering that his father didn't look too cheerful either. In fact, no one looked pleased to be here, except for maybe Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella, both of whom didn't seem to care that Gendry had been legitimized.

Prince Joffrey, on the other hand, looked as if he wanted to stab Gendry with the knife he was using to cut his meat with.

_So much for a happy family._

Some people might try to make small talk, but Gendry had learned from an early age to know when to speak up. The truth was that it was very rare when someone should speak up. All of them just seemed to want to get through this as quickly and painlessly as possible; and if that meant eating in silence with just their silverware and plates clanging and the sound of his father and the Queen drinking wine, then so be it. Gendry was not fool enough to open his mouth and allow room for Joffrey or the Queen to make biting remarks towards him. He was wary of what his father might do should they do that; and he didn't want anyone to get slapped on account of his honor or whatnot being besmirched. He was so tired of that.

Having found his throat and mouth dry, despite having not spoken for what felt like hours, Gendry picked his goblet up and went to take a drink, only to find that he was out of wine. He'd only had one cup and it wasn't nearly enough to go to his head, but he was both too nervous to ask for more because he was insecure and because he thought it might look bad. He wasn't going to drink nearly as much as he noticed that his father did; and he didn't want anyone, especially not the Queen, to think he was.

It didn't slip past King Robert's sight though. "Do you need more wine, Gendry?"

"N-no, Your Grace," Gendry stammered out. He still wasn't sure what he was supposed to call his father, so he opted for the proper titles, especially when around the Queen and her children. She liked it when he acted as if they were high above him; and he wanted her to like him, even if she did scare him. "I'm fine. I–"

"Lancel!" Robert called, his voice booming over Gendry's meek one. Seven hells, when did he turn so meek anyways? When had he ever been like that before? It was stupid – but this was the King and Queen. "Lancel! Where is that bloody fool?" As if having not known he was called for until he'd been called a fool, Ser Lancel Lannister, his father's squire, appeared at the table, already holding a pitcher filled with more wine. "Give my son more wine. And fill up my cup while you're at it. I doubt you'll know to show your face again. You're never here when I need you anyways."

"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Lancel said stiffly.

"Oh, no, I don't need–" Gendry couldn't even finish his sentence before Lancel had filled up his cup again and started on the King's. Gendry felt bad for him, but he did have to hand it to Lancel: while he was constantly assaulted with insults from the King and would turn red and stutter sometimes, he never once snapped back or looked angry or upset. Gendry didn't think he'd be able to handle such verbal abuse, even if it did come from the king or his father. He'd just shut down completely. _I best never anger him then._

"How come Gendry gets a second cup of wine and I don't?" Joffrey demanded, sounding accusing and hurt. Never once did Joffrey ever seem to want more than one glass of wine and besides, his mother wouldn't allow it. Normally, Gendry was able to sip on his one glass and make it last throughout dinner, but he'd been so parched after all his lessons today. He'd forgotten to drink as much water throughout the day.

King Robert took a large gulp from his wine and sat his cup down on the table hard. "You're too young. Gendry is older than you."

"Only by two years," Joffrey countered, and then, throwing Gendry a heated glare, he added, "Besides, I'm the heir to the throne. I'm above him. I should get more than he does."

"That's absurd," his father snorted. "You're both princes. When you're as old as Gendry, you can have as much wine as you want. Now stop _whining._"

Gendry made the stupid mistake of holding out his cup and offering it to Joffrey. "If you really want more, you can have mine. I'm fine, really; I don't need a second cup."

"I don't want _your_ cup!" Joffrey snapped, scooting away from him and looking at the cup as if it was filled with blood. Gendry slowly pulled his hand back and held the cup close to him. "It's filled with your _bastard_ germs!"

Robert slammed his fists down hard on the table. All the plates rattled and the table shook, making both Myrcella and Tommen jump back away from the table in surprise. "He is not a bastard!"

"It's fine, Father," Gendry tried to say weakly. He didn't care what they called him. He really didn't. He'd been called a bastard his entire life; it wouldn't hurt him now even if they tried. "It's fine…"

"Then what is he?" Cersei asked coldly, completely ignoring him. "I do not remember him passing through _my_ womb."

"He is my son! He is a Baratheon! And he is a prince!"

"He can't write; he can't read; he can't do sums; he can't do anything," the Queen accused. "What kind of prince is that? It's _embarrassing_."

Gendry saw the way his father's fists clenched on the table, how he seemed to stop breathing, the way he went silent and stared at his wife from across the table with an equally venomous look. He'd seen that look in many men's eyes right before they did something incredibly stupid and attacked someone on the streets. But this wasn't on the streets. This was in the Red Keep, the castle. This was his family. He'd seen men treat women badly, when he'd been younger than Tommen, when his mother had still been alive and working in an alehouse. _"Never treat a lady badly,"_ he could still remember his mother saying. Or maybe it had been one of her friends that had helped raise him in his early years. He could never remember.

"Speak like that one more time, woman, or so help me…"

"So help you what?" the Queen replied, a sneer on her face. "What will you do? Slap me? In front of the children?"

Gendry felt the urge to take the pitcher of wine and down the entire thing in one gulp.

Robert raised a fist. "You test me and my ruling too much!"

Without warning, Gendry jumped to his feet, so fast that he nearly tumbled back down into his seat. Still, the action startled his father and the Queen out of their argument and everyone turned their eyes upon him. Immediately, he regretted the action and felt the urge to sit back down and hide in his seat, but he could no longer do that. Someone had to do something. "I'm finished with supper. I'm going to..to…" He didn't know where he was going to; he didn't know where he wanted to go. He hadn't even thought of that before standing up. All he'd wanted to do was end their arguing. He hated that it had started over him in the first place. "I'm going to read." Read? Really? That was what he came up with. He tried not to cringe, even when he saw Joffrey smirk out of the corner of his eyes. "Would you like to join me, Princess Myrcella? Prince Tommen? Lord Renly said both of you picked up reading at an early age; and I could…" Don't cringe; don't cringe; just be honest. "I could use the company. It's more fun with other people, right?"

Myrcella's smile was as bright as her hair. "That would be fun, Gendry."

"Can we play games too?" Tommen asked. "Myrcella is the one that likes to read."

"Of course, any games you all want to play." All children played the same games, when it came down to it. He might not have been a child anymore and they might have been half his age, but they were sweet and nice. And honestly, he just didn't want them to have to witness their parents arguing like this. It frustrated him to see them so upset and crowed.

Both children had started to get out of their seats and he'd started for the door when the Queen said, "Myrcella, Tommen, I do not think I excused you." When Gendry looked back though, she was not looking at her children but glaring at him. To his credit, this time, he stared back. A mother should want her children to be away when things like this occurred. His mother had tried, shutting the door on him whenever a visitor came over and whenever she got into an argument, but it hadn't been enough. Gods, he wished Renly and Stannis were here. Neither his father nor the Queen would have argued like this with them around and Renly would have made jokes and they would've laughed and had fun. Why couldn't it just be them? Maybe things like this wouldn't happen nearly as much when the Starks arrived.

"They can go play with their brother," his father said, looking up. There was a strange look on King Robert's face; Gendry couldn't tell if it was a look of shame, anger, or exhaustion, but it was something. He probably hadn't liked being interrupted by Gendry, but it had been the only way. "Go on, children; you're excused."

Gendry bowed awkwardly to them and then turned and stalked out of the room, Myrcella and Tommen on his heels. He headed in the direction where he knew where the books and games were, so that they'd be able to pick whatever they wanted to do. At this rate, he'd do anything. His whole body was brimming with energy. Mostly, he wanted to go to the armory, grab a tourney sword, and beat a target so hard that all the straw came out and he was covered in sweat and he was shaking. Even more so, he just wanted to go into the forge, pick up a hammer, and beat any metal flat. But he couldn't do that anymore. He was a prince now, not a blacksmith's apprentice.

When they were halfway to the room, he felt a presence at his side and a soft hand slide into his rough one. He looked down and saw that Myrcella had taken hold of his hand and was walking quickly next to him, to keep up with his long strides. Tommen was hurrying next to her. Immediately he began to slow down, so that they wouldn't have to nearly run. His whole body relaxed then. All of a sudden, he didn't feel so frustrated; in fact, a small smile perked at his lips and he felt lighter than he had the entire month.


End file.
